here is the most recent page of moses jones: apocalyptic mama.
here is another page. i am having fun with creating moses jones pages again. judging by audience participation (number of likes & comments) mojo is not nearly as popular as my other creations, but i love her–so i will keep writing her.
this comic is another way for me to work out my feelings as a mother, as an ex-wife, and as someone who used to live in a dysfunctional intentional community.
it’s kind of like my self-portrait art journal…but a bit more involved.
my brain is being pleasantly peaceful & neutral. which is great for me…but usually means no new art journal pages as i have nothing to obsess about right now.
but! i decided to take the opportunity of having a vacation from angst to do a new page of moses jones.
fun story…just as i was finishing this page & thinking how i like the way it looks, i spilled a full bottle of black ink onto the page…and my journal…and the floor.
again, my brain took it in stride (i might have someone else’s brain right now) and i quickly chose to salvage the page first, the floor next (not realizing i had also spilled ink on my journal) and then my journal once i realized it was in a pool of ink.
so…thankfully my art is usually messy, but if it seems a bit messier than usual….
& moses jones pages tend to be darker than my other work. but this one might be a bit darker than usual…in more than one way.
i only cried a little while inking it.
having art to work on
really helps that urge
to just disappear
i have started a new page of moses jones. oddly, it is very similar to some panels in the first episode. i did not do that on purpose, but it creates a nice continuity? maybe?
also! someone has commissioned work from me! well, he wanted three pieces of art, but only one of them was actually available. one is a journal page & one is a piece i am pretty sure i gave to dusty a long time back?
i am re-creating both pieces. which is both fun & daunting because i have that “don’t fuck up!” voice in my ear & 13 minions (actually four but with the combined chaos score of 13) literally bouncing off of me as i am poised with a brush full of ink trying to make a straight line. and i’m all in my head saying, “fucking michelangelo didn’t have to put up with this shit.”
maybe i should strap myself to the ceiling & do all my artwork suspended in the air.
part of the charm of my work is all the fuck-ups & messy bits, right?
in a valiant effort to ignore the fucking heartache i am suffering right now, i am trying to update some of my pages so they don’t look like utter crap…right now i am working on my page of comics i have started…but not finished.
(if you want to volunteer any web-building skills? i can pay in inkings! or duck eggs!)
so i’m scanning in some old comics when–i realize i am missing comics! hard copies…yes, my filing system would indicate i am a genius per all those “you are a genius if” articles that i suspect are designed just to make those of us who have a tendency for absentmindedness feel better…however, it makes it impossible for me to find things.
i always put things in a safe & obvious place, and then promptly forget where they are.
so i’m in the process of tearing my house apart (aka: cleaning) to try & find said comics. so far, no good.
man, i miss making comics.
this comic is one i started writing as i became increasingly disillusioned with living in a co-op. if you ask me, it is brilliant. of course, i never finished it…yet.
i was so
looking at who i was
in our relationship
by my own behavior
by what i had
i never noticed
i never really saw
who you were
innocent & good
i trusted you
when you told me
you were perfect
what else could you be
if i was already
i played around with this one a little. i don’t actually look like a cheshire cat…but he is one of my favorites in the land of alice.
plus i’m home alone with three cats right now and (i’m not a cat person.) so when i went to draw myself as a monster….
i mean, playing with hearts as if they are made of catnip? or, in the case of my cat roscoe, the thing you pull off a bottle of milk to open it. that plastic ring. a heart as a plastic ring? i mean, i did play with hearts…but only the still beating ones.
never realizing that mine was being played with as well….
okay…that might show up in pages to come….
i’m trying to figure out
how to live
with a heart
that is not broken
so much of my life
has been spent
in my own pain
dancing to the beat
all my days spent
trying to heal
breaking my self
all over again
so much of my life
i have no idea
how to live
wrapping myself up
in my own
i wrote down the thoughts on this page after commenting on someone’s post about broken hearts.
i liked the idea and this poem is my attempt at flushing out the idea of learning to live with a heart that is not broken.
i might play with it more.
the dodo bird is my spirit guide as i try to fly.
reminding me not to be too trusting.
reminding me to survive.
i have been thinking a lot about starting to do comics again. my latest posts are a bit cartoon-y…which i have to keep reminding myself that that is okay. it is okay to draw the way i draw. it is okay to not be michelangelo.
but maybe my subconscious is trying to steer me back to comics. i like to draw. i like to write stories…comics make sense. i just have to accept that, also, i am never going to be stan lee.
i am me. i have my own style. i have my own story to tell.